


Dirty Dishwater

by Ytteb



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 15:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12510072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: A late night conversation between Tony and Ducky.Probably set somewhere in Season 13.





	Dirty Dishwater

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo sat glumly at his desk in the squad room of NCIS although he was grateful that, as it was the end of the day, the lights were dimmed so that the _pumpkin_ walls were less intrusive and painful to his eyes.

The MCRT had successfully closed another case so Tony should have been in a good mood but it wasn’t a case that he felt he had contributed much to.  Bishop and McGee had done their techno whizzy stuff from the office while he and Gibbs had gone out to make the arrest.  Tony had gone around the back of the premises and showed a still impressive turn of speed when their suspect made a run for it … although, as he got a punch in the eye for his trouble, perhaps it would have been better to let Gibbs do some magic sleight of hand or foot and get there first. 

Tony sighed and remembered that he was grateful really.  The term _dirt bag_ was freely used among the MCRT but this particular dirt bag had really been a dirt bag and DC, and America, would be a better place for him not being free to roam.  McGee and Bishop had written up their reports and left for the day.  Gibbs had disappeared to commune with whatever wood thing he was constructing in his basement and Tony was doing the paperwork.  Slowly.

“Ahem.”

The noise jolted Tony back to awareness and he realised that he’d been staring into space rather than at his computer screen.

“Ahem,” repeated Ducky.

“Oh, hey, Ducky,” said Tony.  “Didn’t see you there.”

“And I didn’t see you where I expected to see you, Anthony.”

“Huh?”

“If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed, then Mohammed must come to the mountain.”

“Huh?” said Tony unimaginatively.

“If the mountain …”

“I heard you,” said Tony.  “Who are you calling a mountain?  ‘Cos I know I’ve put on some weight since I joined NCIS but a lot … well, _some_ is muscle.  And …”

Ducky coughed, “I expected to see you in Autopsy, Anthony so that I might take a look at your eye.  I did not mean to cast any aspersions on your physique.”

“Oh,” said Tony in a mollified tone, “I got peas.”

“Should I be gratified?” asked Ducky in a puzzled voice.

“Frozen,” said Tony, pointing to a soggy bag on his desk.  “Well, they were.”

“I see.  And they would make an efficacious ice pack,” conceded Ducky.

“Phys-ed major,” said Tony proudly.

“Indeed.  And as a phys-ed major you will know that the best results are achieved if ice is applied for 15-20 minutes every hour.”

“Yes,” said Tony brightly.

“And I would infer, from looking at that bag of peas, that they have been residing on your desk for more than an hour which would suggest that you have not applied them in the most beneficial way,” said Ducky severely.

“You ever think you missed your vocation, Ducky?”

“Excuse me?”

“You would have made a great investigator.  You know, the way that you weigh up the evidence, notice the incongr …”

“No,” said Ducky briskly, “I do not consider that I missed my vocation.  I am also not prone to being swayed by flattery.  Indeed, I can safely say that strength of mind and unwavering purpose is a characteristic of the Mallards.”

“That’s two things,” said Tony unwisely.

Ducky favoured him with a piercing look – Tony was almost grateful for his half-closed injured eye which weakened the effect of the glare.  It was effective enough, however … Ducky raised a beckoning finger and Tony followed him meekly.

In Autopsy, Tony sat on one of the steel tables and submitted to being prodded.

“You ever think of getting some cushions?” he asked.  “Steel is very cold on the …”

“No,” said Ducky.

“Or a consulting _chair_?” suggested Tony.  “’Cos we all end up …”

“No,” said Ducky.

“Or …”

“No,” said Ducky.

“Hey, you didn’t give me a chance to finish,” said Tony plaintively.

“I like Autopsy as it is,” said Ducky.  “And if you and your co-workers were more careful, you might not have occasion to have to use it for purposes other than what it is designed for.”

“You mean you’d prefer to have us down here using it for the _purpose it was designed for_?” said Tony incredulously.

“You know that is not what I meant at all, Anthony,” said Ducky sharply, “And sadly, and as you very well know, there have been more occasions than I would wish when I have had friends on these very tables …”

“I’m sorry, Ducky,” said Tony penitently, “I know.  I shouldn’t have said that.”

Ducky sighed and patted him on the shoulder, “It is I who am sorry, Anthony.  I should not have been impatient with you.”

“What’s the verdict, Ducky?”

“You will have a black eye by the morning,” said Ducky.  “And I am guessing that you already have a headache.  You need to keep up the icing and to take some painkillers but I do not think you have done any lasting damage.”

“Thanks, Ducky,” said Tony as he made to jump off the table.

“You will forgive my tetchiness,” said Ducky, “But injuries to the eye are not to be taken lightly.  I was concerned.”

“I know, thanks again, Ducky.”

“You seem somewhat out of spirits, Anthony,” said Ducky.

“I’m OK, Ducky.  Just tired,” said Tony.

“Are you sure that is all?”

“Oh, you know,” said Tony.

“No, I don’t know.  That is why I asked.”

“One of those cases where I seemed to supply the brawn rather than the brain,” sighed Tony.  “And then I walked … or ran … into a punch.”

“The MCRT is successful because it utilizes a range of skills.  And you provide many of them,” observed Ducky.

“And better me to get the punch than one of the others,” said Tony.

“That is not what I meant at all,” said Ducky.  “As you very well know.”

“Yeah, I know.  Well, thanks again for your time, Duckman.”

“It is my pleasure.  It is never a waste of time to remind people of their value ... and to check on their wellbeing.  And you know, the eyes are the window to the soul,” said Ducky sententiously.  “Now, what is there in that to make you laugh?”

Tony had chuckled at the ME’s words.  “Oh, it brought back memories.  Actually, not all happy ones,” he said.

“Indeed?” said Ducky in an inviting tone.

“Years ago, I took a knock in a football match.  Got checked out by this gorgeous nurse … and I mean, gorgeous.  She had long blonde hair and enormous …”

“Thank you, Anthony,” said Ducky briskly, “I can well imagine what she had that was enormous!”

“Eyes,” said Tony dreamily as if he had not been interrupted, “She had enormous blue eyes.  I lost myself in them and I felt we had a real connection.  And she said that eyes are window to the soul, and then she said …”

“What did she say, Anthony?” asked Ducky as Tony seemed reluctant to continue.

“She said she had never seen eyes like mine.”

“Yes?”

“She said they were the colour of …”

“Yes?”

“Dirty dishwater!”

“Oh,” said Ducky.

“Yeah,” said Tony, “That was a bit of a mood killer.”

“I can imagine,” sympathised Ducky.

“And it sort of stayed with me,” said Tony sadly.  “Dirty dishwater eyes.  Not very appealing, is it?”

“But appropriate,” mused Ducky.

“Thanks, Ducky!” said Tony indignantly, “Way to kick a man when he’s down!”

“No, no,” said Ducky, “I meant that for someone who works in law enforcement to have eyes like dirty dishwater … and understand, that I do not necessarily support her analogy … has a certain symmetry.”

“Huh?” asked Tony who was tired and feeling the headache getting worse.

“I believe that those who work in law enforcement are charged with _cleaning_ things up.  And to a certain extent they cannot help but be affected by what they see and experience in their work.  That your _dishwater_ is dirty indicates to me that you are effective in your vocation.”

“Vocation?”

“Oh yes, I am sure that you are _called_ to be doing what you’re doing.”

“Oh, well thanks, Ducky.  Good to know.”  Once again, Tony made to leave.

“And,” said Ducky, “I think it is also significant that your eyes, if I may say so, Anthony, are one of your best features.  They are clear and bright and I think that is also significant as it shows me that you have not been tainted by what you have seen but retain your optimism … and your _goodness.”_

Tony swallowed, “Thanks, Ducky.  Again.”

“Don’t be downhearted, my boy,” said Ducky.

“I’ll try,” said Tony.

“And remember to ice that eye.  And take some painkillers,” instructed Ducky.

“I promise,” said Tony.

“In fact,” said Ducky, “Why not come home with me?”

“Ducky?”

“I am guessing that you are still in your rental car?  So you will not mind leaving it in the NCIS garage overnight?”

“No …?” said Tony cautiously.

“Then come home with me.  I have an ice pack which is fit for purpose that you can place on your eye.  And I have a very fine malt whisky that I think you will enjoy.”

“You’re recommending painkillers with alcohol?” said Tony in mock horror.

“Are you telling me that you do not intend to have a drink when you get home?” asked Ducky shrewdly.

“Guilty as charged,” admitted Tony.

“Then keep me company tonight,” said Ducky.

Tony hesitated but then realised how good it would be not to go home alone but instead go to Ducky’s cosy and comfortable house, to drink excellent whisky and let Ducky’s gentle voice soothe away his anxieties and unvoiced fears.  “Thanks, Ducky, that would be good.”

“Excellent,” said Ducky, “And I will give some thought about the true colour of your eyes.  You know, when I was a lad we lived in a house on the edge of a loch.  On late Spring mornings, when the sun was in a certain position, I would say that its waters were the colour of your eyes …”

Tony felt relaxed already as he pictured a young Ducky fishing by a picturesque loch.  He smiled.

“Oh,” said Ducky, “But I do remember that our housekeeper … Mrs McTavish … a dour Scot indeed albeit one with a marvellous hand with drop scones … she said …”

“Said what?” asked Tony.

“She said that looking at the loch always reminded her that the washing up needed to be done.  But she was a woman of no imagination …”

Tony laughed as Ducky switched off the lights and they walked out of Autopsy together.

“Perhaps,” said Ducky, “It’s more like …”

Tony allowed Ducky’s voice to wash over him like warm water.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I recently listened to a Michael Weatherly commentary on one of the Season 13 episodes and he said that he thought his eyes were the colour of dirty dishwater. I’m not sure I agree but I thought there had to be a story there! 
> 
> As always, I don’t own the characters so Ducky and Tony are safely back in their NCIS boxes chatting away to each other.


End file.
